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Nick
The constant sound of helicopters and sirens wailing in the distance settled over the suburban community, neighbors stopping neighbors in the grocery store parking lot to comment on how scary it was.
How they struggled to comprehend how something like this could happen.
How they planned to go home and pray “that horrible man” was found.
How they’d also pray for his wife’s and daughter’s safety.
Domenic Jaskulski never understood how someone could truly believe all they had to do was pray and everything would be resolved.
He’d tried that when he was younger.
But no amount of praying ever rectified his situation.
“Pray all you want,” he muttered, laughing to himself as two women passed, looking his way and smiling. Yet they didn’t recognize him. “It’s not going to help.”
The women walked to their separate cars, putting their groceries into the trunk before driving out of the lot. He briefly considered following the blonde with the obviously fake lips and augmented breasts, just to see the look on her face when he asked if she thought praying would help when he had her tied up, a knife marring her skin.
But she wasn’t what Nick desired. He had very particular tastes. He either did this right or not at all.
That was another lesson he was forced to learn early in life.
Settling into the seat of the work truck, he resumed his search, listening to the morning news on the radio. As expected, the main story of the day was his escape.
And, as the media was prone to do, they reported it to death, telling the world of his supposed crimes, causing mass hysteria and panic in the immediate area surrounding where he’d escaped custody.
But the authorities could comb through those woods for hours. Days.
They wouldn’t find anything.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
They’d eventually find his prison jumpsuit, socks, and slippers.
Nick had made sure of it.
Then the trail would go cold.
He had made sure of that, too.
As the reporter went on to detail Nick’s crimes of stalking, raping, and murdering women, the terminology Nick took issue with, he kept his attention focused on the parking lot, more and more people arriving to do their weekly shopping, mostly women, some with kids in tow.
Which was why Nick chose this location for his…surveillance.
And the work truck that had been waiting was the perfect cover vehicle. No one questioned seeing a work truck sitting in a parking lot. Over the years, Nick had learned most people were completely oblivious to their surroundings, too consumed by their own lives to open their eyes and look around.
It was this lack of awareness he often used for his own purposes.
Like he planned to do today.
As he analyzed every person coming and going from the grocery store, he kept a clipboard in front of him to make it appear as if he were writing up a report from his latest job. In a way, he was. Or he would be once he found what he was looking for. Although the longer he sat here, the more he worried he never would.
He was about to give up and try a different location, perhaps a gym or beauty salon, when he finally saw her.
Long, blonde hair. Mid-thirties. Face sporting a touch of makeup, but her natural beauty didn’t require much. She was dressed in capri pants and a tight-fitting tank top, giving the impression she’d just come from the gym.
Nick sat up, spine straight, slight smile curling his lips when she stopped her cart by a dark SUV just a few spots down and across the aisle, allowing him the perfect view as she loaded her groceries into her car.
